TRON: NXT
by Travellers all
Summary: It has been nearly sixty years since Samuel Flynn entered the grid, but when he and his son disappeared seven years ago, the granddaughter of Sam Flynn rebuilt the entire server, looking for hope in the new hardware running old software. She had to find them. T for violence and gratuitous Voxels.
1. Introducing Sam Bradley

Disclaimer: I do not own TRON. I do not own an ENCOM Panel Van. I do not own any ENCOM stock. I do not even own the movies.

I do however own the intellectual project this story will become.

* * *

Solid rubber cleats dug into the tarmac with a gentle hiss as the electric brake assist brought a large truck to a stop outside one of the tallest buildings in New York. ENCOM Deus, the second ENCOM tower in the world, the other being in California. Inside, Samantha Kevin Bradley peeked over the dashboard of her mobile home, a custom modified, but otherwise visually stock ENCOM Panel Van, which cleverly concealed the immense computer system and RV built into it. The entire thing was a hacker's cave on wheels, but it passed easily for just another ENCOM delivery vehicle.

The guards didn't even look her way, and she slipped out, leaving the vehicle between two identical ones. The massive main door, a holdover from the original in California, eased open silently at the entry of a password, one borrowed from her great grandfather, Kevin Flynn. The stairs were identical; of course, the tower was identical to the California building. She started up the stairs and fired off a laser pointer at the camera, temporarily blinding it. She waited a few seconds, and then repeated it. The security guard would come to investigate, and be away from his computer terminal for a minute. She rushed up the stairs and slipped around the upper corner, sprinting silently up the unsecured stairs, and past the upper level security office.

The guards in here didn't even see her worm through the bars that were supposed to keep people out, and she was able to slip into the top server room. Immediately, she contacted her cousin, Kevin Alan Flynn, over in the California building. The time zones were different, but they had to be perfectly timed to do this, this time. It was the main reason that there were two buildings in different time zones. Kevin responded with a countdown ping and they both activated the trader program simultaneously. Moments later, they unhooked from the system and slipped out of their respective buildings.

Samantha scrambled up the stairs, noting that she had probably been spotted, and she ran for the roof access door. The guard arrived just as she got up on the window washer's crane. She knew that her cousin was probably doing the same exact thing she was, and she backed up, walking out to the edge of the crane, just as the guard shouted, "Hey, you can't be up here! This is a restricted area!"

"I know. It's basically private property, right? And do you know who owns it?"

The guard stared for a moment, "Two kids, Sam Bradley and Kevin Flynn?" She raised her hands, and indicated, as the guard finished, "But they only control like two thirds of the stock total."

She grinned and slid a weighted business card down to him. It was made of flash-paper, treated with several light sensitive chemicals that would make it burn up as soon as he took it out to show the boss, but it had her name on it. She saluted his incredulous expression and stepped off the crane. The guard panicked, but she just pulled a ripcord on her parachute, and carefully coasted to a gentle landing on the parking lot. She grabbed her van and drove calmly out the gate, the guard letting her out. It was five minutes before the release of the program, and the guard up on the roof was still puzzling over her card, so she had no current reason to be held. She was out on the highway before the release, and she had it running on her dashboard computer. She laughed as it switched on a video of her cousin's beagle, Shoeshine. He thought it was a terrible joke, but they laughed at it anyway. Both had gotten away free, though it was clear that ENCOM CEO John Dillinger the Fourth was very angry at them. Both of them.

Around four thirty the next morning, she reached her cousin's place, a small apartment in California, built on top of the ancient Flynn Arcade, which the two had half-inherited from their grandfather, Samuel Flynn. Now it was considered to be one of the best, if not the best part of the city for college age students to hang out and party, much like it had been in Kevin Flynn the Elder's day. She parked in the back and strode up into the apartment they shared, throwing the borrowed phone down on the counter before she fell face-first onto the couch and fell asleep.

She was woken later that morning by her cousin shaking her awake, "Hey, Cuz, I need the couch for a few hours. The guys are comin' over, and they wanna watch the game."

She glared at the pillow and threw up a series of hand signs that basically spelled out a computer routine, declaring that Kevin Flynn the Younger could go erase himself from reality. He responded with a shout of, "DOGPILE!"

The beagle got to be on top of the pile of four guys sitting on the couch like she wasn't even there, though it should have been obvious she was. She eventually struggled out and scowled at them before storming out and taking the stairs down past the arcade, then past the first basement, where there was a massive collection of ancient gaming consoles, and new consoles, a collection started by Samuel Flynn, to maintain his heritage he said. The second basement was locked by a fancy biometric lock that only let those with Flynn DNA in. The system on the other side was three stories down, buried in a maze of coolant lines that kept it cold enough that if the air wasn't kept at zero percent humidity, there would be a crust of ice on everything. The GRID Server Farm, Generation R Intelligent DOS. It was one of the last things her father had built before he had gone to the big arcade in the sky.

It was also rumored to be related to the Grid system her grandfathers had toyed with, though she was certain that couldn't be true. She had however, been unburying bits of the old Grid, unboxing the old touch-screen desk and the gargantuan consoles. Those were already copied, in full, onto the new, highly advanced silicon chips of the server farm. She shivered as she lifted the laser, the digitizing device her grandfathers had both been pulled in by unintentionally. She made certain to set it up pointed somewhere safe, at a spot on the floor labeled with a painted red bullseye.

The wiring was easy, but copying the program over had left small issues. She wasn't sure if it was due to age, or what, but some of the variables barely made sense, height and weight she understood, but DNA structure, a complex folder labeled , puzzled her. She knew it was supposed to call on the exact atomic structure and replicate that into the system, but she didn't know how. Another folder, labeled caught her eye though, because it was tagged with an active icon. She opened it and watched a program, clearly a rough app, before Java became common, open. It showed a 3D image of an orange, turning slowly in mid-air. She looked at the menu bar, and clicked the button labeled 'Materialize'. The laser powered up and the system asked if the aperture was clear. She checked quickly, making sure it was not smudged or anything, and pushed the Y button.

The laser whirred and hissed, before a 3D pile of voxels appeared in the air in front of the laser. The pile began forming into the shape of an orange, getting more and more detailed as voxels dissipated into thin air before the orange gained color and fell on the chilled floor with a 'Splut'. She picked it up off the target and began peeling the skin back before checking the file on the computer. It showed that the folder was now empty, so she deleted it and started eating the orange, delighted at the way it tasted perfectly normal. She began scrolling through the access system, and located several other types of food, inactive form. She tried opening and rendering a can of beans, but it told her she was not authorized to activate that file.

She scowled and opened the folder, spotting several smaller folders inside, , , and . She went to see if she could read them, but again it denied her the privilege, declaring that these files were actively locked and only the ENCOM Superuser could use them. Another scowl and she created a new folder in the , and named it after her, , before opening it with the rendering program. She hit the scan button and stepped into the laser's path.


	2. Enter The Grid

Disclaimer: As before, I own nothing but the intellectual property of this story.

* * *

Samantha Bradley opened her eyes lying on the floor of the lab beneath the arcade. Her head hurt a little, but that was fairly normal after slamming ones head into a concrete floor unexpectedly. She spotted the laser, sitting comfortably on the ceiling, but the colors were off. It was glowing bluish-white, and the silver had been replaced by black. She was still wearing her normal street clothes, what she had been wearing when she had hit the scan button, and besides the odd blue-white glow coming off everything, even the lights, everything looked normal. She looked at the touch-screen desk, which was the only thing different. It was entirely missing the server farm, and the screen was displaying a gigantic number tagged with the word Cycles. Below that was a different number labeled years, and both had sub-categories, going down to the second on the years scale, and the nano-cycle on the Cycle scale. It seemed that the nano-cycles were ticking at what she was counting to be seconds, and what her watch was declaring to be seconds, though it was probably going to get less and less accurate, because the actual seconds time on the console hadn't changed even once yet. There was a second clock that seemed to be counting down the cycles for something, and she stared at the laser for a long second, or at least a fraction of one.

It had a little red light on it, and she stepped in front of it and stomped on the target still barely visible on the ground. A blink later, she was in the real world and the laser was powering down. She checked the clock on the wall, and it declared that she had been in the computer for one millicycle, a thousandth of a cycle, and these computers operated as three thousand cycles per second. She had to get back in there to do her homework. It would be so much easier.

She hit the scan button again, and jumped under the beam, this time carefully synchronizing her watch with the number of nano-cycles to the laser deactivating. She started up the stairs, curious about the way the digital world would look, based on how her grandfathers had described it, back then. She was sure it had changed now, and she made use of that knowledge, sneaking up the staircase, past the console room, which cut off at game systems from 2030, none of the newer systems were available. She hadn't even been alive back then, her parents being still just children.

She reached the main arcade, and walked past blank screened arcade machines cutting off at the same point. The door welcomed her to the outside world, and she stared in wonder at the roadway. It was nearly a perfect duplicate of the real world, circa 2030. It was clear that her grandfather had had a hand in this. She took two steps out into the empty street before she heard a loud, shrill whooshing. The craft that landed in front of her was glowing with red-orange circuitry, and the pilot was as well.

Two guards stepped off the front and grabbed her, "Program, please come with us. The Superuser will be glad to see you."

She was puzzled as the placed her in a harness of solid looking light that pinned her immobile beside several other people, she hoped they were people at least. One of them looked at her and seemed to have a little breakdown, "We're all gonna die! They'll kill us! The Games!"

She just sighed. Freaks like that didn't surprise her anymore, it was why she had stopped taking the busses, and spent a sizeable portion of her grandfather's money on that panel van. The craft soared through the air and she watched the landscape pass below, a near perfect replica of the city, all the way out to the highways, but those ended at some sort of giant train stations. The aircraft dropped down and looped the legs around a large orange beam. She shivered as the beam touched the belly of the craft, but it stopped there, and the aircraft began zipping along the beam, far faster than she thought was possible. The rocky looking landscape below shot by, and she realized there was nothing there, just bits of unused space in the computer. She was looking at white noise.

The craft reached another station and lifted off, flying through a city that reminded her of New York, though this city was so much larger. Everywhere, there were people hustling and bustling around, doing things. Programs, her mind told her. She watched in awe as a program got run down, and seemed to be falling apart, into tiny voxels. She briefly wondered if that would happen to her if she got injured in here. Two programs garbed in white ran up to the injured program and scooped it up, tapping something on a disk on its back. The injured program vanished, leaving a smallish cube bearing the file-type image of an EXE file on each side, with a handle on the top. The medic programs rushed off with the cube, presumably to a hospital, not a morgue.

The craft landed on a big open field, and the top part lowered all the way to the ground, just like when she had been picked up. One of the guards started dragging the other passengers off, and either sending them to another aircraft, declared by "Rectify", or sent to a lift-like thing that disappeared into the ground with "Games". Finally, they reached her, and the guard stared for a long moment, "Come with me Program."

She was escorted to another lift that went up, into a tower overlooking a massive field of digital hexes. She thought about trying to make a break for it, but decided against doing anything hostile until she knew if they were hostile. She was led into a room, where a man dressed like Darth Vader walked up to her. He spread his arms open as his helmet dissipated into voxels and faded out. The face behind it was her grandfather, Samuel Flynn. He looked at her, "Sam? How did you get in here?"

He seemed very confused, so she pointed in the general direction she had come from, "I used the laser, in the lab. Scanned myself in to see what the fuss was all about."

He stared for a few nano-cycles, "That's impossible. By my calculations, you should have died of old age nine-hundred and forty-six billion cycles ago."

"Grampa Sam, I replicated the entire server onto a faster computer five years ago," she waved at the entire thing, "You are now using Pentium's fastest super-processors, Nitrogen cooled."

Flynn nodded, "I see, but you know, I'm not your grandfather. My name is System Algorithmic Monitor, Version Two, or as your grandfather called me, SAM 2." He sighed and reached out, handing his disk over patiently, "Your grandfather was a good man, but he couldn't stand the strain of being billions of cycles old. He de-rezzed himself a few million cycles ago, in the hopes that it would return him to the real world, like what had happened to his father."

"It didn't work. The laser was disconnected."

"Well, if it's connected now, he should be able to be re-rezzed as long as his files are still intact. You didn't play with any of those, did you?"

She shook her head, "Those were locked for Superuser access only. I don't know the password."

He smiled, "Well, I've been playing his role for over three million cycles, I'm sure he gave me a copy of the password. I may have to dig for a while. Why don't you go check out the games? Oh, but first, you've gotta get an identity disk and proper clothing."

"Uh, sure…" She looked at him as the guard came up to escort her down to another room. The program escorting her was wearing a full body armored suit and a face covering mask that made him look like a machine. He didn't even make a sound as she was led into the room and something locked her feet in place. Uncomfortably, she stood there as several brightly glowing white garbed programs stepped up to her and began cutting up her street clothes with laser pointers.

"Hey, they have zippers, you know!" Her jacket fell off, and she looked nervously around, desperately hoping there was nobody watching her, even as a body-sock formed up over her, skin-tight but still comfortable. The white programs positioned armor plates all over her body, positioning them in a way that left her full flexibility without leaving too much of the body-sock exposed. Obviously her grandfather was still somewhere in SAM 2, and wanted to make sure she was safe. The white program behind her placed a big disk, one that looked like a combination of a Frisbee and a chakram, with a little bit of CD crammed in. But everything was flash-memory now. Why would they be using CDs for information storage. She knew it was storage, because she had looked over SAM 2's disk a few minutes before. The disk connected with her back and everything flashed white for a fraction of a nano-cycle before the white program stated, "Disk synchronized and bonded. Prepare for the Games."

She stepped forward as her feet were released, and began walking down the hall, led by the guard from before, she suspected. The guard stopped at the door to the arena and raised his arms high, not making a sound, as Sam's name appeared on the display, though it wrongly declared her Samantha Flynn. She didn't particularly care though, and quickly stepped out onto the indicated platform, which began descending to a series of boxes, each containing two competitors, save one. That was the one the platform melded into. She smiled and pulled her disk out. She knew how this would go. A helmet formed up over her head, and she ran at the other program, who was replying in an almost mirrored image. She howled a battle cry and slashed the program like she would have her cousin, in their practice duels when they were younger. The program gave before the disk, as this disk wasn't made of foam-rubber, and the program hit the ground, middle de-rezzing on the spot.

She hit her knees beside him and hit his disk, opening the file, and she tried to figure out what the medical programs had done, even as the program began to de-rezz more fully. She gritted her teeth and started searching for a different key, the pause program key. Every program she had ever written had one, but this program seemed to lack it, and she threw the disk on the deck as it faded to a neutral grey and the glow dissipated. The program was completely de-rezzed now.

"Competitor Fifteen, Fourteen, Twelve, Nine, Three, One De-rezzed. Competitor Eleven, Eight, Six, Four Crippled. Competitor Sixteen, Thirteen, Ten, Seven, Five, Two Continue." The disembodied voice sounded almost cheerful. She would have to fix that later. She scooped up the disk of the program she had ended, and stood as she came face-to-face with the next competitor.

This one seemed devious, almost criminal, if the scar across his face and body were any indication. He was holding the disk of his previous competitor in one hand, his own in his other hand, and he charged, whirling like crazy. She ducked and slammed her disk into the floor, creating a hole that the other program slipped through. She managed to catch both of his disks, but he weighed far more than she had expected, and was dragging her down, "I don't want to de-rezz you!"

The program smiled, a mouth full of rotting voxels, "Too bad, I want to de-rezz you." She released his disk, and the shock ripped his hand off the stolen disk, which he had been holding lightly, since it was still glowing a healthy green, not his vicious red. She stood up and looked around, now holding three disks. She put her own back on her back and looked at the display, which showed only herself and competitors Ten and Two. Thirteen was listed as De-rezzed, but the other two were merely crippled.

"Time for a One-On-One-On-One!" The voice was still creeping her out with how cheery it was.

The box formed around the three of them, two programs and herself. They charged her, figuring probably that since she had de-rezzed both her opponents, she was the biggest threat. They were right, but for different reasons. She spun to the ground as they swung at her head, and she lopped off their knees before snagging both disks and quickly searching out the stabilization codes. Both programs dissipated into boxes, which she placed the disks in, and she handed them off to the medical teams, who headed off with a cart of boxes.

She was escorted back up to the box, where she looked at SAM 2, "I killed at least two programs, out of seven who perished in there, and this is called a game!"

He nodded, "Indeed, dear. Now, I'm afraid you are not going to be allowed to remain here any longer. Guards, please escort her to the Outskirts." The way he said it made her think Dungeons, or Lake of Lava. She knew his circuitry was red-orange, much like the guards, in fact, and like the monstrous program that had attacked her so viciously.

She glared at him, "I have a better idea. You and me, on the track."

She pointed at the track, and at the large racecar-like vehicles sitting beside it, "You, me, now."

He sighed, "Get her some team-mates. She'll need them." He escorted her down to the racecars personally, and took one, which took on his characteristic glow as he took control of it. She climbed into her own, noting that the color changed to match her own, and she tucked the two spare disks into the sides of the seat, not wanting to lose them. SAM 2 took off, trailing an orange light-barrier that was half-transparent. He was joined by several other vehicles, and she took off, avoiding the walls deftly, as her own team joined in and they all charged out onto the wide open field, which was in the process of morphing to fit the challenge.

She watched one of her team clip a wall and go spinning off course as his car partially de-rezzed, before he rejoined the race, and she noted that his entire wall, up to the collision, had vanished. She swerved carefully and clipped another car with her light-wall, giving her a brief clearing to cut across and watch in horror as two programs collided head-on. Both were fully de-rezzed before she could finish panicking.

It only got worse the longer the challenge went on for what felt like nearly three hours, but her clock told her it had only been less than a tenth of a millicycle. It was nerve racking, trying to dodge and block, until only three remained. Her, SAM 2, and one of his team-mates, who she recognized as the guard from before.

The two teams charged each-other, them beginning to form a bottleneck to trap her, but she was clever, and rolled the car slightly, sending it into a controlled spin that clipped both of the other vehicles with her own, in a collision that totally de-rezzed her vehicle, and partially de-rezzed the other two. She quickly started panicking, even as SAM 2 tossed her a baton of some sort. She looked at the hand-grips on it and started running, realizing what that was. She started her leap and rocketed forward, charging into the fray, despite being smaller, and slower. It didn't stop her from de-rezzing both of the cars, and watching both programs draw light-cycles. They pursued her out to the edges of the arena, and she heard SAM 2 saying, "These light-cycles won't operate off the grid," and he pointed off the arena. She just gritted her teeth and drove a hand into the middle of the dashboard. She could feel the code streaming around her fingertips, and she began to hack. The bike sprouted studded tires, and rose, resembling what she remembered about dirt-bikes, before she launched herself off the side of the arena.


End file.
